


Not Yet The End

by TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel



Series: Not yet The End verse [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Supernatural, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: 2014!verse, Apocalypse, Clint & Natasha vs. the world, Crossover, Dean and Castiel aren't quite broken yet, Episode: s05e04 The End, Fix-It, Friendship, Gen, Post-Apocalypse, Reunions, Survival, The End Verse, Thor is loud, Tony is a smartass, the Avengers will be there when we need them, where was Gabriel when all this happened
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-28
Updated: 2012-10-28
Packaged: 2017-11-17 05:14:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/547998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel/pseuds/TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A bit over a year after Detroit was wiped off the map at the beginning of the apocalypse, and nine months after joining other survivors at Camp Chitaqua, Steve Rogers discovered that maybe he wasn't the only Avenger left in the world.</p><p>And together, the Avengers can do pretty much anything.</p><p> </p><p>  <i>As everyone squinted up at the bright speck in the sky suspiciously, not sure yet whether they should be alarmed or not, Steve’s ears caught the faintest hint of sound.</i><br/><i>His heart skipped a beat and he concentrated all his focus on listening to that distant noise, as the bright, glinting thing in the sky grew larger.</i><br/><i>It sounded like the beginning of 'Thunderstruck'.</i><br/><i>And Steve – Steve knew only one maniac crazy enough to fly through a demon-and-croat-infected post-apocalyptic world blasting loud rock music across the landscape.</i><br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Yet The End

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Zekkass](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zekkass/gifts), [pyrebi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pyrebi/gifts).
  * Inspired by [2014!Supernatural/Avengers fusion idea/notes](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/13095) by Pyrebi and Zekkass. 



> First of all, most of the credit for this fic goes to Zekkass and Pyrebi, as their notes/outline were used as the inspiration for this fic. I recieved permission from Zekkass to write this.
> 
> Okay, so, important author notes time. This fic is set in the alternate future shown in the Supernatural episode ['The End'](http://www.supernaturalwiki.com/index.php?title=5.04_The_End), except for a few things. One: instead of being set five years after Lucifer blew up Detroit, it's a little over a year afterwards, because the timeline is a little different - while the fic is set in 2014, Sam didn't say 'yes' to Lucifer until some time in 2013. Two: while this is set in the Supernatural 'The End verse', this also happens to be the same universe in which The Avengers took place. So, basically, The Avengers got together as a team sometime in 2012, the apocalypse started in 2013, and now it's 2014.
> 
> For people unfamiliar with the Supernatural season 4-5 story arc, there are notes at the end of the fic. Go straight there first.
> 
> There may be errors. I'm really tired now, so I might have missed some.

** Not Yet The End **

It had been just over a year since Detroit exploded, the Crotoan plague following shortly after, and about nine months since the day that Steve had walked into Camp Chitaqua, bedraggled and lost, in search of other survivors.

Steve still hadn’t quite settled into the changed circumstances; there were times still when it felt like a really horrible dream, and sometimes Steve found himself half-wondering if he was ever going to wake up.

Life could be worse, he knew. He’d seen what had happened to the infected, and knew that even if there were other survivors out there, most of them wouldn’t have access to the simple things like food and water and limited electrical power, that everyone had once taken for granted but were now precious and rare.

Somehow Steve had found himself part of a community that was doing okay for itself – for now, anyway – with other people, like him, who was doing the best they could to keep themselves and the others alive, day-by-day. The way things were out there, well, by comparison his life wasn’t too bad.

He just couldn’t adjust, that was all. He had lost too much in too short a time, and he felt adrift, cut off from everyone and everything he knew. 

He tried not to think about what had happened to the others, but the question haunted him. He’d lost all contact with them when Detroit happened, and he’d searched, afterwards, but there had been no sign of them, just fleeing, frightened civilians and the heat shimmer and molten glass that had been Detroit. Even though he knew they were probably all dead, he couldn’t help _wondering_. Hoping. Maybe, somehow, somewhere, his friends were still alive and okay, not dead or infected – Steve stubbornly held onto that thought, even as the last lingering vestiges of hope dwindled with every day he was out here alone, in the reality of post-Detroit.

Steve had lost his shield at the same time as he’d lost the other Avengers, and while its loss was nothing next to them, its absence was still devastating.

He’d had the shield for so long, using it was as natural as breathing, and it had saved his life and the lives of other more times than he could count. Even when he had been pulled from the ice and found himself in a strange, sometimes-incomprehensible future, he’d still had the reassurance of the shield, tying him to the life he had lost.

Now, however, it was a brand-new world all over again without even that comfort, and Steve felt exposed and left adrift without the weight of the shield on his arm or on his back.

He hadn’t told anyone that he was Captain America, because without his shield, without his people, without a sense of purpose, he wasn’t. He was just Steve – a stronger, faster, tougher Steve than he used to be, but still just Steve. There was nothing he could do to change the way things were – it was too big, too awful for him to fix by himself. So, as far as anyone else was concerned, he was just Steve, who was a good shot and good for lifting things and carrying things.

Until one day, everything started to change.

* * *

Steve waited uncomfortably by the door as the women filed out of the cabin.

It wasn’t his business what Cas got up to, and Steve wasn’t going to judge him for it – even if he fooled some people, Cas was even more lost and hurt than he was, Steve could tell.

It was just. The orgies. Because it was Steve’s cabin too, and the situation was damn awkward, sometimes. That was all. Tony probably would have laughed at him – Steve experienced a flare of tired grief at the thought – but Steve couldn’t help feeling uncomfortable about it. People simply didn’t behave like that in his day, and while Steve knew that times had changed, it didn’t help his instinctive embarrassment.

“Ladies.” Steve gave them a polite nod, and waited for all the women to leave before he entered the cabin.

Cas was stretched out on the rug, smoking something contemplatively. Steve’s nose wrinkled at the smell. The drug didn’t affect him, but he didn’t approve of Cas smoking it inside.

Cas’ mouth curled up into a smile even though he wasn’t looking at Steve, and Steve knew that Cas had been expecting that reaction.

Instead of telling him off, Steve just sighed. It wasn’t so long ago that Cas would have been as uncomfortable as he was. A lot had changed, in the nine months he’d spent at the camp.

“Have a good time?”

“It was fine,” Cas said idly. He still didn’t look away from the discoloured patch on the ceiling that was apparently fascinating him. “One day I will convince you to lose the earnest bashful schtick and join in. You won’t know what hit you.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Steve replied wryly, only half-joking, and Cas laughed.

“Hey!” One of the camp kids burst into the room, looking agitated.

“Easy, Danny,” Steve put a calming hand on his shoulder. “What’s the problem?”

“There’s something in the sky!” Danny blurted.

Steve glanced at Cas, who simply waved him towards the door with one hand.

“Go ahead. Let me know if the world’s ending. I’ve got some scotch I’ve been saving for that.”

Steve sighed, but nodded, and followed Danny outside.

The two of them walked down to join the others who had gathered at the centre of the camp. Steve looked up, his eyes searching the sky. Sure enough, there was something bright and glittering far up in the sky. Probably metal, the way the sunlight appeared to be reflecting off it. Whatever it was, it certainly wasn’t natural.

As everyone squinted up at the bright speck in the sky suspiciously, not sure yet whether they should be alarmed or not, Steve’s ears caught the faintest hint of sound.

His heart skipped a beat and he concentrated all his focus on listening to that distant noise, as the bright, glinting thing in the sky grew larger.

It sounded like the beginning of _Thunderstruck_.

And Steve – Steve knew only one maniac crazy enough to fly through a demon-and-croat-infected post-apocalyptic world blasting loud rock music across the landscape.

“Oh my God,” Steve choked. All of a sudden he couldn’t breathe, hope swelling in his chest for the first time in months.

Dean looked at him sharply.

“Steve?”

Steve waved absently at him to be quiet.

“Wait,” he said hoarsely, his eyes glued to the object above them.

Another ten seconds, and everyone else could hear what he heard.

“What the fuck – is that _ACDC?_ ” Dean demanded.

But Steve had started laughing too hard to reply, as the by-now recognizable shape of Iron Man swooped down towards them.

By the time he landed, Steve was sitting on the ground with his head in his hands, shaking from hysterical laughter.

“So I’m guessing this is where all the cool people hang out,” Tony said through the suit, and Steve was wracked by another bout of convulsive laughter.

“Whoa, easy there, Cap.” Iron Man stared at him in what was probably concern.

A moment later the faceplate lifted, and a face gazed out – haggard, grimy, now sporting a full beard rather than a goatee, but utterly, unmistakably _Tony_.

“What, no hello?”

Steve _beamed_ at him, feeling giddy and almost delirious with joy.

“Get out of that thing so I can hug you, Stark.”

The suit retracted, leaving Tony standing there in a pair of faded jeans and a worn Led Zeppelin t-shirt.

Steve immediately pounced on him, and maybe it was more of a tackle than a hug but _goddammit_ , he’d missed his friend.

“ _Tony_ ,” he said into Tony’s hair.

Tony hugged him back just as strongly for a few moments, then flailed about when Steve didn’t let go, choosing to resolutely cling on.

“Okay, um, I think we’ve reached the maximum amount of time two heterosexual men can keep hugging.”

“ _I don’t care_ ,” Steve said fiercely, and okay, wow, that came out more deranged than he meant it to.

Tony patted him on the back awkwardly.

“I get it, Steve, I do, I didn’t think anyone else was left either, but your pals are all staring at us and also, I think you might have fractured my spine.”

With great reluctance Steve loosened his hold and let Tony go.

Tony stepped back, smiling crookedly, and Steve didn’t think of himself as an over-emotional man but the sight made him want to burst into tears and grab Tony in a hug again.

He resisted manfully.

“Although,” Tony added, “when I say ‘I didn’t think anyone else was left either’ I actually meant ‘anyone except me and Bruce,’ because yeah. He’s alive, too.”

Steve’s heart leapt.

“ _Bruce?_ ” He was choking up again.

“Yeah, he’s kind of – well, he’s back that way somewhere,” Tony waved a vague hand in the direction he’d come from, “don’t worry, he’ll catch up soon – he’s kind of, you know. Green. Spent the entire time before I found him Hulked out, I think, if the swathe of destruction he left behind him was any clue – I mean, he’s a _scientist_ , he’s vulnerable, and apparently Hulk enjoys smashing all the zombie-people he can find, which is gross, by the way, and why he’s not here yet.”

Steve felt his heart constrict at the thought of Bruce, alone and terrified, trying to fight off croats and trying to fight off his alter-ego at the same time before giving up and letting Hulk take control, full-time.

“I hate to break up the party,” a voice interrupted acidly, “but maybe one of you would like to answer the all-important question of _what the fuck?_ ”

Tony stared at Dean – who was looking pissed and disbelieving and dangerous – and let his eyebrows rise.

“Okay, I realize we’ve seen the collapse of civilisation as we know it and possibly the extinction of the human race, but really, am I that forgettable? Tony Stark, Iron Man,” said Tony, and Steve wanted to laugh, because apparently there was nothing that could subdue Tony’s ego and smart-ass tendencies.

“I know who you are,” Dean snarled, exasperation and bewildered worry manifesting themselves as hyper-aggression. “But what’s with the – the whole–” Dean gestured angrily, frustration leaving him groping for words with which to articulate himself, “–the whole bromance thing? How the hell does _Steve_ know _you?_ ”

Toyn paused to take that question into full consideration, and Steve winced.

He slowly turned to stare at Steve, who felt his face burn.

“Holy shit, Cap, I know you like your privacy and all, but – you’ve been living here for how long, and I’m guessing quite a while from how Belligerent Guy is acting – and you never mentioned you’re Captain America?”

“What,” Dean said in a flat, emotionless monotone. Steve cringed. “Excuse me. Did you just say that Steve here is _Captain freaking America?_ ”

Dean’s roar of the last few words caught the attention of pretty much everyone in the camp.

“Yeah,” Tony confirmed.

“I don’t believe this!” Dean turned on Steve, seething, and jabbed him in the chest with a finger. “ _You’re_ Captain America? America’s favourite superhero? And you’ve been just cooling your heels here day after day when out there, Lucifer is walking the earth and everything is dying like it’s just–”

Steve didn’t know if it was Dean’s words or the repeated jabs to the chest, but he snapped.

“ _What am I supposed to do?_ ” he bellowed back into Dean’s face, feeling just as furious as the other man. “I’m just a guy! I’m a soldier who got injected with something that made him stronger and faster but I’m not a genius, I’m not – I’m not an _army_. I spent seventy years frozen in ice and woke up in a world I didn’t understand, and everything I knew was _gone_. I’ve already seen my world die once –do you really think that I would be letting it happen again if I had _any idea_ how to _fix it?”_

Steve had to stop then, panting for breath.

Dean looked startled and thrown off-balance, as though he hadn’t expected _Captain America_ to admit to being as lost as he was. If he’d even thought about it at all, which Steve doubted. Dean sometimes acted first, and had some sense drummed into him later.

“I’m just a guy,” Steve repeated. “A kid from Brooklyn who wanted to be a hero and ended up in the wrong century. Everything I am came out of a bottle. I’m as helpless as you are, Dean.”

Dean flinched minutely at the world ‘helpless,’ jaw tightening.

“Okay, you have got to stop listening to me when I’m trying to be insulting,” Tony observed, “because that’s the biggest load of bullshit I’ve ever heard, Captain. Maybe the serum made you faster and stronger and kept you looking good for your age, but the rest of it is all you. Now if that’s over, I don’t know if either of you actually noticed, but _oh hey_ , would you look at what I brought with me, _supplies._ ”

Tony pointedly nudged the large sack by his feet, and… Steve genuinely had not noticed, too caught up in his fit of hysteria when Tony landed, and then his delight at seeing the other man again.

Dean inhaled deeply through his nose.

“Fine. Whatever. I get the message, you’re as human as the rest of us. Let’s look at these supplies.”

“Sure,” Tony chirped. “Listen, in a few hours a giant green guy’s going to show up here. Just send someone to let me know when he arrives, so me and Steve can calm him down and get Dr Jekyll back.”

Dean glared at Tony, then Steve, like he couldn’t believe their audacity, but gave a grudging nod.

“Bring that shit inside.” He headed for the mess hall without a backwards glance.

Steve and Tony followed, bringing the sack of supplies with them.

* * *

With all the fuss over Tony’s arrival and the supplies he’d brought with him – medicines, mostly, as well as some other priceless items that couldn’t be replaced, plus a jar of instant coffee and a tiny bottle of _absinthe_ of all things (Steve really questioned Tony’s priorities, at times) which was promptly made off with by Cas – it was a while before Steve had a chance to find them a quieter spot in the hall and sit Tony down to talk.

Tony, being Tony, immediately pulled out a small tablet instead, and booted it up. His fingers flew over the keys.

“Okay, JARVIS,” he said aloud, “you got a lock on our location?”

Steve’s jaw dropped as the familiar voice of the AI emerged from the tiny speaker.

“ _I do, sir_.”

“ _JARVIS?_ ” Steve spluttered. “JARVIS is still running?”

“JARVIS is fine,” Tony told him. “I transferred all his software to the mainframe in one of the super-secret Stark bunkers, it’s powered by an arc reactor kind of like the one at Avengers Tower only far more efficient, which is why it hasn’t lost power like everything else. The wireless connection’s been a bit dodgy, though – I mean, sometimes it’s there, but sometimes it isn’t, depends on the region. Some dick in a white suit keeps blowing up all my satellites.”

Steve felt the blood drain from his face.

“ _Some dick in a white suit?_ ” Steve repeated faintly.

“Yeah,” Tony went on, oblivious to the fact that he apparently had _Lucifer himself_ destroying his tech. “Not all the satellites are gone, obviously, otherwise JARVIS wouldn’t be in contact right now, but the whole thing’s hit and miss.”

Steve rubbed at his temple and wondered how to explain.

“Tony. The guy in the suit. I’m pretty sure that’s Lucifer. As in the Devil, and the guy who’s responsible for the world ending.”

Tony stared at him.

“You can’t be serious.”

Steve stared back.

“Completely serious.”

“Lucifer,” Tony repeated doubtfully.

Steve gave him a wry smile.

“Is it really that much crazier than anything else that’s happened to us?”

“Yeah, point,” Tony admitted.

“Look, you see Dean over there, the guy who was yelling at us earlier? I don’t know the whole story – I don’t think anyone but Dean and Cas does – but he and Cas –”

“That the weirdo who made a beeline for the absinthe before he vanished?” Tony interrupted.

“Right, uh, he and Dean, apparently they were up to their necks in the whole thing between Heaven and Hell before this all went down, and according to them, Hell and Heaven were fighting over the earth and who got to destroy it. Lucifer won.”

“Oh, well, that’s fabulous,” Tony snarked. “Wait, they were _both_ fighting over who got to destroy the planet?”

“Yeah, that’s angels for you,” said a spaced-out voice to Steve’s left. He and Tony glanced over to see Cas watching them with a vague smile. “They’re a bunch of dicks. Thanks for the absinthe, by the way. I’m planning to combine it with some of my trippier drugs.”

The grin he shot Tony was sharp and hollow, and for the thousandth time Steve felt his insides twist, helpless to do anything to stop Cas from destroying himself.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Tony replied warily.

“Probably not,” Cas agreed, undisturbed by the ways in which combining absinthe with major medication could go disastrously wrong. “But hey, it’s an adventure.”

Steve winced internally, but didn’t allow the expression to show on his face as he considered Cas, and wondered why the other man had approached them.

“I suppose I’m not in a position to throw stones, considering some of the things I got up to when I was dying,” Tony mused, watching Cas carefully, “but I’m still pretty sure that’s not a healthy way of dealing with things.”

Cas let out a crack of scornful laughter, which spiralled out into a sound that was more uncontrolled and unbalanced.

“Healthy,” Cas chuckled, when his laughter died away. “Right.”

“Cas,” Steve said gently, and waited for Cas to give him that unsettlingly piercing, darkly-amused stare. “This is my friend, Tony Stark. Tony, this is my friend, Cas.”

“Friend?” Cas repeated lightly. “Wow, Steve. You must be desperate for friends.”

Steve met his eyes unflinchingly, without saying anything, and Cas’ mouth curled up wryly at the corners. It was as much acknowledgement as Steve was going to get.

“So I guess your buddy here needs somewhere to stay,” Cas announced, addressing the empty air in front of him. “It’s going to be a bit cramped, but he can stay in our cabin if he wants, we can rustle up some blankets from somewhere, maybe steal Dean’s, asshole like him doesn’t deserve blankets. Or he can bunk down with Greg. That works.”

“I want to stay with Steve,” Tony stated firmly.

“Okay. That’s fine. As long as you don’t mind orgies. Steve always hides.”

“From the orgies?” Tony clarified, looking both confused and amused.

“I think women scare him,” Cas confided, like Steve wasn’t sitting _right there_. “Or maybe it’s just the boobs. Or–”

“I am not scared of women or boobs,” Steve denied, before Cas could come up with any more suggestions. Tony was already smirking, just a little. “Come on. I suppose we should show you our cabin before you make a final decision.”

“I’m down with that,” Tony agreed.

“Then let us show you to our humble abode,” Cas said cheerfully.

* * *

The Hulk showed up late that evening.

Tony immediately hurried out to meet him, and fifteen minutes later a very weary Bruce Banner trudged into the mess hall behind him, blinking blearily.

“Bruce,” Steve greeted him, and waited until Bruce’s eyes had focused on him and a look of recognition appeared before hugging his teammate. If Bruce had mostly been the Hulk all this time, his transformation probably only needed the slightest trigger to set it off.

Bruce stood still and let himself be hugged, but made no move to reciprocate.

He swayed a bit when Steve put some space between them, like Steve’s support had been the main thing keeping him standing.

Steve eyed him in concern.

“Bruce?”

Bruce folded to the floor with a slight sigh.

Steve caught him automatically before he could crack his head open, and looked around in alarm for Tony.

“ _TONY_!”

“Aw, hell.” Tony appeared by his side, and frowned worriedly at their unconscious friend. “It’s probably exhaustion, I don’t know when he last slept – Hulk doesn’t really sleep, and Bruce doesn’t feel secure enough most of the time to revert back to himself.”

“So there’s not telling how long he’s been awake,” Steve concluded with a sigh. “Okay. I’ll stick him in my cabin, and I’ll ask Jenny to check him over when she has a minute.”

“You know, between the three of us and Cas, it’s going to get pretty crowded in there,” Tony mused, still watching Bruce. 

Steve had long ago learned that Tony could split his focus into several concurrent trains of thought (although if he had too many going at once, he was a lot more absent-minded and prone to explosions), and knew that despite Tony’s rambling Bruce’s condition was still taking priority in his mind.

“Not that I mind or anything,” Tony added. “It’s just that I see a cuddlepile in our future.”

“I’ll see if I can find some mattresses somewhere to lay out on the floor,” Steve suggested. “Hey, you see the nervous guy with the beard? He’s in charge of supplies. See if you can’t talk him into getting us some extra blankets and mattresses from somewhere.”

“On it, Cap.”

“But _be nice_ ,” Steve warned sternly, and left to carry Bruce to the cabin.

The scientist had his mouth open against Steve’s shoulder, and Steve could feel him drooling a little.

Steve was too glad to have him back again to care.

His mind was already running through plans of what the three of them might do next.

He and Tony had already moved things around in his room a bit so that they could share, and with any luck Tony would succeed in wheedling mattresses and blankets out of Chuck, who Steve frankly doubted was in any way equipped to deal with a determined Tony Stark. After that Tony and Bruce would need to settle in and adjust, and Bruce would probably need some recovery time, but then…

Steve had meant it when he had told Dean that he was just one man, who happened to be stronger and faster than an ordinary human being. The thing that had always made the difference was the people he had to support him, whether they were Peggy and Howard or the Howling Commandos, or more recently SHIELD.

And the Avengers? Steve had faith in every single one of them, had worked with them for years, and knew all of them to be extraordinary people.

While Steve alone might not have able to do much about the colossal problems humanity faced, the Avengers – even if there were only three of them now – were a whole different story. If anyone could make things better, Steve thought, it was his team.

The absence of Thor and Clint and Natasha was a sharp, burning ache in his chest, but the reappearance of Bruce and Tony in Steve’s life was nothing short of a miracle. It was one that he was fully grateful for.

Steve reached his and Cas’ cabin (now Tony and Bruce’s cabin, as well) and laid Bruce out on his bed. Bruce was still dead to the world, but when Steve checked, he seemed to be sleeping peacefully.

Time to go talk to Dean, Steve thought. 

* * *

Steve was surprised to find that Dean, unexpectedly, was with Cas. The two men were sitting at the end of the little jetty by the lake. The two men were sitting on opposite sides of the jetty – as far away from each other as they could go – and neither was looking at the other, but all the same Steve had the sense that he was intruding on something he didn’t understand.

“Um,” said Steve, eloquently.

Dean didn’t respond for a moment. Then, with a soft sigh, he glanced around. Cas kept staring out across the lake.

“Captain,” Dean acknowledged. “I guess you’re here to talk about the new arrivals.”

“Yeah,” Steve admitted, resisting the urge to glance back at Cas, unsure of what was going on. Steve knew from camp gossip that Dean and Cas had been friends at one point, but something had shattered that friendship, leaving it rotted and sour, without actually breaking whatever bond held them together. Things had been better between them when Steve first joined the camp, when Dean had been less antagonistic and Cas had only just started to get into drugs. It was only as the months passed that Dean grew grimmer and more bitter, and Cas started to lose himself in substance abuse. Sometimes, though, Steve caught glimpses of what the two must have been like, before. It saddened him.

“Tell me, Steve,” Dean began. “You have two more Avengers than you had before. What do you think the chances are of you being able to do something about Lucifer?”

Steve ran a hand through his hair, considering. It was a fair question, and one he had known would be coming.

“Honestly?”

“No, I want you to lie to me. _Yes, honestly, Jesus,_ ” Dean snapped.

“At this point I don’t know,” Steve confessed. “And I won’t know for a while.”

Dean let out a short, angry exhale, and glanced out at the water.

“Goddammit.”

“Maybe it’s none of my business,” Steve began, carefully but firmly, “but I get the impression that Lucifer’s destruction is somehow a lot more personal to you than it is to the rest of us, Dean.”

Dean didn’t answer, although Steve saw the muscles jump in his jaw. He didn’t expect Cas to reply instead of Dean.

“It’s complicated,” Cas said. He glanced at Dean, and seemed to see something Steve didn’t, because he went on. “This was our task, Dean’s especially. Stopping Lucifer. We failed, and because we failed, Lucifer is ruling the Earth. And… he’s possessing Dean’s younger brother to do it.”

For a long time, Steve couldn’t find anything to say in response to that staggering intelligence.

“I can see why you take that personally,” he said at last.

Cas gave a mirthless huff of laughter. There was a long moment of silence. Steve about to walk away and leave the two of them in peace when Dean suddenly spoke up.

“I woke up one morning and my whole world was gone. How’d you do it, man? How’d you just go on after something like that?”

Steve hesitated, giving proper thought to the question.

“I stuck to what I believe in,” he explained finally. “I found new things to fight for, and discovered new people who were worth everything I could give them. And I went through a dozen punching bags a week.”

Dean gave a dry snort that was almost amused, but didn’t say or do anything else, so Steve left them to it, in their mutual silence at the end of the tiny jetty.

He hoped his words had helped, although he didn’t really see how anything could help Dean, at this point. It was a heavy burden that Steve didn’t think anything could much lighten.

-

The next day, Steve was lying on one of the mattresses crammed into his room and reading a rather battered copy of _Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows_ when he heard Bruce groan.

Steve immediately sat up to look at his friend.

He and Tony had both slept on the floor mattresses last night, on the grounds that Bruce was the one most in need of a proper bed.

Right now Bruce was blinking down at himself, looking confused to find himself lying on a bed and carefully swaddled in blankets. Possibly Steve had gone a little overboard there, he had to admit, but the last thing he had wanted was Bruce to catch a chill overnight.

“Afternoon,” Steve said softly, not wanting to startle him.

Bruce’s eyes snapped around to fix on Steve. He looked like he was staring at a ghost.

“Steve?”

“Hey. It’s good to see you.” Steve gave him a genuine smile. “Tony’s gone off to see if he can improve the generator somehow without knocking it out or setting it on fire. This place, it’s a camp for survivors of everything that happened.”

“Oh,” Bruce said in a small voice. He looked overwhelmed, and just kept staring at Steve. “I’m glad you’re alive. We thought we’d lost you. I, uh, don’t remember a whole lot of what happened after the Detroit thing. Tony’s explained some, the couple of times I was… not the Other Guy, but yeah.”

“It’s fine,” Steve said sympathetically.

“I can’t imagine the locals were too pleased to have the Hulk turn up,” Bruce said, after  a moment. He twitched restlessly, as though something itched under his skin.

“Actually, the appearance of a giant, croat-smashing green man was taken surprisingly well,” Steve responded dryly.

Bruce’s brow wrinkled.

“Croat?” he questioned.

Steve winced a bit.

“It’s what they’re calling the people who are infected.”

Bruce’s expression turned to one of queasy disgust and vague horror.

“So the Other Guy’s been, uh, smashing them. That’s great.”

“Sorry.”

Steve had tried to imagine, more than once, what it had to be like for Bruce, knowing that he was the Hulk. Everyone got mad sometimes, imagined pounding someone into a pulp or breaking things to work off their anger, but people had a safety switch in their head, most of the time, that stopped them crossing that line.

Every time Bruce got angry and turned big and green, that essential division between his primitive impulses and the things Bruce actually wanted to do disappeared, leaving him with no real control or conscience. To someone who valued self-discipline and intellect and civilised behaviour, that dichotomy between the two violently different parts of himself had to be devastating. Steve couldn’t fathom it.

“I don’t suppose there’s anything else to read in here?” Bruce asked, changing the subject as he always did when the conversation became too painful.

“Well, there’s a Gideon Bible,” Steve suggested dryly, “or stuffed at the back of one of the cupboards we have something called _Lazarus Rising_ that I think someone might have tried to burn at some point. I know Risa has _To Kill a Mockingbird_ and Chuck has a couple of Terry Pratchetts, if you want to borrow something from one of the others.”

Bruce chuckled.

“I guess there’s not much in the way of reading material, then.”

“Not really,” Steve had to agree. “People brought what they could carry, and usually they were more concerned about things like food and water and medicines.” Steve glanced down at his book, and marked the page with the scrap of ribbon he used as a bookmark. “I’ll go get you something to eat and drink. I don’t mind sharing Harry Potter when I’m not reading it, if you like.”

Bruce nodded slowly.

“Yeah. If that’s okay.” 

“It’s fine,” Steve smiled, leaving the book on the bed next to Bruce as he stood and made his way across the wall-to-wall room of mattresses. “I’ll be back soon.”

Bruce just gave Steve one of his bemused, unhappy smiles, so Steve nodded, and went to get him something from the kitchens.

* * *

Life continued on after the appearance of two more Avengers in the camp, although some adjustments had to be made. Steve found himself having to get used to awed stares again, no longer just Steve, but Captain America. Like always, he wasn’t sure how he felt about it. Carrying that sort of faith and belief from other people was a lot of responsibility, especially now, when he was a figure of renewed hope all of a sudden to people who had lost pretty much everything.

Tony spent a lot of time working with his tech via JARVIS and his tablet. Steve didn’t really understand what he was doing, but it was something to do with infrastructure and possible weapons and other things that people could really use right now. If they could get rid of Lucifer, Tony said (although everyone was still trying to figure out a way that could possibly work), then as long as certain things had been kept running, then maybe everyone could start over. Most of what he referred to as the ‘super-secret Stark bunkers’ had a lab attached, and it was possible, he and Bruce tentatively agreed, that by studying the Croatoan virus they might be able to come with a cure or an inoculation or something.

All of that depended on finding a way to destroy Lucifer, though, and while there were a lot of wild ideas aired, nobody had anything concrete. Normal weapons wouldn’t work, according to Dean and Cas, and that included Tony-style weaponry; but apart from that, no one really had any answers.

Still, Steve wasn’t going to despair. He and his team had faced some pretty impossible things before. He was confident that given enough time, they’d come up with _something_.

* * *

When a thunderstorm rolled out of nowhere in the middle of a perfectly fine day and a bolt of lightning struck the ground to leave a blonde Norse god wielding a giant hammer standing in the middle of the campsite (to the consternation of most of its inhabitants), Steve wondered why he was even surprised.

“Thor!” he called out, before anyone could panic any further.

Thor beamed like the sun at the sight of him, and held out his arms in greeting.

“ _FRIEND STEVE!_ ” Thor boomed, looking both delighted and relieved. “It is good to see you indeed!”

There was a back-slapping exchange that made Steve’s knees buckle – even he had trouble standing up to Thor’s enthusiasm – while everyone around them _stared_.

“Boy, Thor, am I see you,” Steve said gratefully. Thor’s presence alone had the effect of making everything around him seem more cheerful. His sunny disposition was contagious.

“And I you, Steve,” Thor responded, smiling, but sounding serious. “What has become of Midgard? I have been gone for one year to attend to my princely duties, and I return to find – _this!_ ” He gestured at the world around them. “What fell enchantment or dread beast has laid waste to this formerly-harmonious realm?”

Over the last year, Steve had almost forgotten how Thor talked.

“It’s a long story. But – do you remember when we explained to you about hell, and the Devil, that time?”

“Indeed,” Thor nodded. “When Tony did insist on telling Agent Sitwell to venture forth and visit them both.”

That prompted a flicker of a smile from Steve.

“Well, it turns out they’re both real. Lucifer – the Devil – decided to conquer the world, and destroy every human he can find.”

Thor stared in horror.

“This cannot be!”

“Look, it’s a long and complicated story, and the others can probably tell it better. Dean seems to know more about what happened than anyone, although he doesn’t seem to want to share much of it with the rest of us. All I know is that he and his brother and Cas – Castiel – were involved somehow.”

“Castiel?” Thor repeated, his gaze suddenly intent. “I recognise the form of that name. One of the Celestial Beings remains here still?”

Steve stared at him.

“What?”

* * *

So it turned out, after a lot of discussion, that angels were what Thor’s people knew as Celestial Beings, and that Cas had once been an angel. 

“I decided to take humanity’s side,” Cas explained in that airy, casual way he had now, like nothing mattered to him anymore. “You can see for yourself how well that turned out.”

Steve caught the flash of some bitter, bleak emotion in his eyes before his gaze went dreamy again.

Steve glanced at the others to see that Tony was frowning, while Bruce had his thinking face on and Thor looked grave.

“But you’re telling is that angels are definitely real,” Tony began, addressing Cas, “and that they live in some other realm, and you used to be one of them until they kicked you out of the clubhouse. And Asgard knew about you guys, but the Aesir and the angels didn’t talk much because the angels were pompous self-righteous dicks who thought they were better than everyone else. Like Time Lords.”

“I have no idea what a Time Lord is,” Cas replied, (while Bruce went ‘ _really, Tony?_ ’), “but you’ve got the gist.”

“Why?” Steve asked, because it seemed important. Somewhere underneath the drugged daze and the nihilism and the pretence of not giving a damn, there was still an actual person with thoughts and feelings, no matter how deep Cas had buried them. “Why did you choose humanity’s side?”

Cas tipped his head on one side and considered his answer.

“I suppose you could say I allowed myself to be suckered into it by an emotionally-stunted, borderline-alcoholic idiot with daddy issues and a history of making bad life choices.”

“Yeah, because you have such a history of great ideas yourself,” Dean shot back.

For a second Cas’ eyes were completely clear and very blue.

“The most important decision I ever made was whether to put my faith in you or in Heaven, so obviously not.”

“Okay, um, I think we’re getting off-topic,” Tony broke in, looking as uncomfortable as Steve felt.

“Thor,” Bruce questioned. “Do the Aesir know any way to kill an archangel?”

“Alas, I do not know,” Thor said, brow wrinkling. “But it is possible that my father may have the information that we seek.”

“Your father?” Dean repeated dubiously.

“Odin the All-Father, King of Asgard,” Thor confirmed. “My father is most wise, and learned in many matters.”

“That’s true,” Cas agreed thoughtfully. 

“Cas.” Dean met his eyes, as serious as Steve had ever seen him. “Do you think there might be a chance?”

Steve blinked in surprise, because Dean didn’t ask Cas’ opinion very often these days, but here he was, training an earnest, almost hopeful look on Cas like the man held all the secrets of the universe.

Cas stared at him, any mockery or jadedness in his expression gone.

“I don’t know,” he said slowly, “but it’s possible that Odin All-Father _might_ ,” he emphasised, “And I say _might_ , Dean, have some information that could be helpful. That’s all I can give you.”

Dean took a deep breath, and nodded.

“Thanks, Cas.”

Cas looked away. Steve felt uncomfortable, knowing that the undertones of that exchange had been very private.

“It is settled, then!” Thor declared. “I shall consult my father on the question of how to defeat a Celestial Being, and return to you with what I have learned.”

“Fabulous,” Tony said cheerfully. 

There wasn’t really much else to be said. The discussion continued for a while longer, but there wasn’t much to it besides speculation. Any real planning would have to wait until Thor came back from Asgard, hopefully with good news.

Somehow, despite the fact that only the camp leaders had been present for the discussion, the news that a genuine Norse god might have a way to kill Lucifer had made its way all around the camp by halfway through the next morning, before Thor left on his mission.

Thor had already been getting enough attention, with his height and looks, the armour and Mjolnir, and the way he talked like someone out of an archaic play, but thanks to the addition of this new information most of the camp was waiting around to watch curiously when Thor went outside to return home.

Even Cas was hanging around, watching Thor prepare to call out to Heimdall with keen eyes that belied his pretence of being lost in an uncaring haze of drugs.

“Take heart, my friends,” Thor told them all, readying his hammer. “I shall do my best to help you in this time of trial.”

Then he was gone, and the camp was left in a state of uneasy, hopeful anticipation.

* * *

Things only got tenser as the days went by, and at the end of the week Dean announced that they were going for a supply run.

Steve volunteered to go, as he usually did, along with Risa and David and Piotr. Unusually, Cas announced that he planned to stay behind this time, but didn’t give a reason why.

He’d been quieter and more withdrawn than usual since Thor had left. Steve suspected that he was even more wound up about the possibility of dealing with Lucifer than anyone else except Dean.

Dean gave Cas a searching look when he said that he wasn’t coming, but in a rare display of tact didn’t press the issue. But then, he probably knew better than anyone what was driving Cas.

They took turns going into the buildings in twos and threes, always leaving a couple of people behind to guard the jeep and shout a warning of approaching croats, or other, hostile survivors. There had been a couple of times when the supply run team had been attacked by other survivors trying to steal the jeep or their supplies, and a run-in with the army that had almost gone in a very nasty direction.

Things went okay until Steve was partnered with Dean. There was a bar a couple buildings down from an abandoned supermarket, and after they’d collected what they could from the supermarket, Dean turned towards it. 

“I’m going to see if there’s any booze in there.”

With a purposeful look Dean began to stride towards the bar.

“You’re getting _alcohol?_ ” Steve asked furiously. “The rest of the team are waiting for us!”

“In case you didn’t notice, Captain Uptight, tensions have been running high since your pal Thor took off,” Dean glared back. “And whether you approve or not, a shot or two of decent alcohol will help with that.”

Little as Steve liked what Dean had to say, he had to admit there was probably some truth in it.

“I’m coming with you.”

“Suit yourself,” Dean sneered.

As Steve followed Dean into the bar, he noticed that the sign above the door read _Holy Spirits._ He frowned reflexively, despite his recently re-thought opinion of Judeo-Christian religion.

The bar had been built with high ceilings and not enough windows – Steve wasn’t sure, but he thought that the thick wooden beams and the rough wooden tables and wood floor might have been part of a general rustic theme – and without the electric lights, the place was filled with shadows.

At Dean and Steve’s entrance a pile of clothing stirred, and proved to be a person when it raised a head to squint with drunken eyes in their direction.

“Fucking Winchesters,” the man muttered derisively, head falling back again.

Dean went white with recognition and rage.

“ _You!_ ” he yelled, and bounded forward with violence written all over him.

Consciously, Steve wasn’t aware of what was about to happen next. It was purely on instinct that he grabbed the back of Dean’s shirt and yanked him backwards, so that the arrow embedded itself in the floor instead of Dean.

“Holy shit,” Dean blurted, staring wild-eyed at the arrow in front of him. An arrow Steve recognised.

Steve looked up in the direction it had been fired from. He could only see shadows.

“Clint?”

He held his breath. For a moment nothing happened. Then a shape dropped down out of the rafters, bow in hand, and a second shape slinked out of the shadows to the right of the dusty pool table.

Steve found himself grinning like a loon.

“Friend of yours?” he inquired mildly, glancing at the inebriated man on the floor.

“Asset,” Natasha corrected coolly. “The bar is protected from the infected somehow, and he knows how to get rid of any demons that wander in.”

“That’s me,” the drunk agreed. “An asset.”

He grinned up at Dean with empty eyes.

“Tell me, Deano, you broken my baby bro yet? Or is Castiel still holding it all together?”

He pronounced ‘Castiel’ with the same lilting emphasis that Cas had used when he’d told Steve his real name, all those months ago.

Steve’s eyes widened at the implications.

“…you have got to be fucking kidding me,” said Dean finally.

The drunk smirked, a horrible parody of genuine emotion.

“Nope. The name’s Gabriel, kiddo. And until about a year ago, I was an archangel in hiding.” He laughed brokenly. “Man, life’s a bitch. You just couldn’t let go, could you? You and Sam. You just _had_ to hold onto each other no matter what the consequences, and Heaven played you for a pair of patsies. How’s it feel to know you ended the world as we know it?”

Steve was expecting it, so he was able to grab the other man when he let out a bellow like an angry bull and tried to throw himself at Gabriel. The ex-archangel just laughed hysterically, like the fact that Dean was trying to kill him was hilarious.

“Is he always like this?” Steve asked Natasha and Clint, as he wrestled Dean to the floor, disregarding all the other man’s threats.

“When he’s drunk, sure,” said Clint. “Sober, he’s the most depressing son-of-a-bitch I’ve ever met. His life is like a country song.”

“A bad one,” Natasha added, her expression severe.

Steve decided that this was probably Natasha's way of expressing sympathy.

When Dean calmed down enough for Steve to stop sitting on him, he and Steve and Natasha got into a heated argument over Gabriel’s fate: Clint and Natasha wanted to bring him along with them, while Dean really, really wanted to strangle the ex-angel.

Eventually they decided on a compromise: Dean could have the bottle of sixty-three year old Scotch Gabriel was clutching to his chest (despite Gabriel protesting this arrangement) and Gabriel could come back with them to the camp as long as he stayed out of Dean’s sight.

Steve was not looking forward to introducing Cas to his brother.

Gabriel had passed out while everyone was still arguing, and this made things simultaneously easier, and more difficult. Steve thought for a moment.

“Natasha.” He offered her his gun. “Take this.”

Natasha took it from him, and with his hands free, Steve crouched down to sling Gabriel’s unconscious form over his shoulder.

“You know how to use that thing?” Dean asked Natasha bluntly.

Natasha gave a chilling smile in reply, and didn’t answer. Her smile had been answer enough.

“Okay, then.”

“Hey Cap, before we go, we’ve got something of yours,” Clint announced.

He disappeared into the darkness for a second, and when he re-emerged he was carrying a large, round object that made Steve freeze in shock.

_ His shield. _

“We found it, near what was left of Detroit,” Clint explained while Steve just stared, bereft of words. “We figured you were dead, but you know, it’s a good shield, saved our lives a few times, makes an okay barbecue plate–”

Steve let out a shaky laugh at that one. He hoped Clint was kidding.

“So yeah,” Clint finished. “Since you’re alive and all, figured you’d want it back.”

Steve took a deep, shaky breath.

“Thanks,” he managed. Took another breath. “How about you hold onto it for now, but – as soon as my hands are free –”

Clint nodded, holding the shield with an ease that suggested he’d become used to doing so, over the last few months. Steve had a sudden vision of his friends using it to defend themselves, overrun by croats or demons, but working together, defending each other and beating back their attackers in that strangely synchronous way that only Clint and Natasha quite managed.

“I’m glad you had it,” said Steve sincerely. “Not just so I got it back, but – that you were able to use it.”

Clint cracked a faint grin at that, wry but genuine, his expression understanding.

“Trust me, Cap. Not half as glad as we were.”

There was a hint of remembered grief there too, though, and Steve didn’t have to be a genius like Tony or Bruce to work it out. If Natasha and Clint had found the shield, without him, they must have assumed that it was because he was dead, or worse, infected. Similar enough nightmares had plagued Steve’s own dreams.

“Come on.” Steve glanced at Dean. “We should get out of here, get back to the rest of the group.”

He and Dean left the building, Natasha and Clint following after them.

They rejoined the others at the jeep. Risa raised her eyebrow at the unconscious man slung over Steve’s shoulder and the two new additions.

“Who’s this lot?” she asked, while the other men gazed assessingly at Gabriel, Natasha, and Clint.

Natasha just looked coolly back, Clint remaining silent by her side.

“This is Clint and Natasha,” Steve explained. “They were Avengers.”

“What, there’s more of them?” David snorted, and almost smiled. “You people don’t kill easy, do you?”

“You have no idea,” said Natasha, climbing into the jeep with Clint.

“The asshat who smells like a brewery’s Cas’ brother,” Dean explained, as Steve sat uncomfortably, Gabriel sort of cradled in his lap. The ex-angel had started to snore, loudly.

David snorted with surprise.

“Wow. Cas has a brother?”

“They’re not exactly close,” Dean replied.

The drive back to the camp was tense and uncomfortable, with too many people crammed into the jeep, and Gabriel snoring like a clogged drain for most of the ride, until they were only a couple of minutes away from the camp.

As everyone piled out of the car Steve hauled Gabriel out with him.

“Hey, hey, not so grabby,” the man complained cheerfully. Then he went still, his features going a little slack.

Steve looked up to see Cas with an armful of supplies, standing there with a puzzled frown. He looked like he had been helping to unload the jeep when he had spotted Gabriel, and was trying to place him. 

“Oh boy, I’m not drunk enough for this,” Gabriel muttered. He pushed Steve away and stood on his own, a little unsteadily, staring back.

“I should know you,” Cas said, his stare unflinching and intent. “You’re familiar somehow.”

Steve saw Gabriel tense up, but try for a nonchalant attitude.

“Yeah, well, it’s been a while,” he shot back. “Little bro.”

Cas’ eyebrows shot together and he stepped forward, his gaze suddenly almost unbearably piercing.

Steve saw the moment that he recognised the man in front of him: his eyes blew wide, and his mouth fell open in a shocked gasp.  

The next moment he punched Gabriel in the face.

“Whoa!” Steve exclaimed, catching Gabriel as he went reeling backwards, while Clint jumped in between the two brothers.

“Easy there,” he told Cas, whose eyes were snapping and very, very focused, and who was giving off an air of suddenly being far, far more dangerous than he looked. “Hey, buddy, calm down. _Easy._ ”

“You okay?” Steve asked Gabriel, as the man prodded gingerly around his eye, wincing.

“Peachy,” Gabriel groaned. He looked up again reluctantly to meet Cas’ gimlet-eyed glare.

After a moment’s angry staring, Cas let out a furious huff of breath and turned away to storm off. Gabriel looked vaguely shattered, but unsurprised.

“Cas!” Dean called after him, but Cas didn’t look around or stop or give any other sign that he had heard.

“I can _feeeel_ the love,” Gabriel sighed. “Okay, handsome, find me somewhere I can pass out in peace.”

“Put him somewhere me and Cas don’t have to see him,” Dean ordered Steve, before he went after Cas.

“You never know, they might come round,” Clint told Gabriel helpfully.

“Yeah right,” said Gabriel. “I am paying my penance, friend.”

“Come on,” Steve sighed, steering Gabriel forward. “I’ll see if Chuck is willing to let you bunk down with him.”

“Thanks, amigo,” Gabriel slurred.

Steve, warned by the slurring, caught the former archangel as he passed out again, and slung him back over his shoulder. He raised his eyebrows at Natasha and Clint.

“Yeah, he does that a lot.”

“Right. Okay, so. Let’s get him inside where I can put him down somewhere, and then we can catch up.” Steve glanced back at them with a sudden grin. “Bruce and Tony will be pleased.”

Natasha went very still, while Clint blurted,

“ _What?_ ”

Steve grinned even further. It was good to have everyone back again, and he couldn’t wait to see Tony splutter when he saw Clint and Natasha.

“Let me get Gabriel inside first,” was all he said in reply.

* * *

The Avengers spent the next couple of days together whenever they could, swapping stories, and explaining what each of them had been doing all this time. It felt great to have the team back together – well, except for Thor, but he was alive and well and would be back soon enough – and Steve let himself get lost in the joy and unalloyed happiness of having everyone back. Maybe miracles didn’t happen anymore, but having his friends with him again, alive, _safe,_ unhurt, was as close to one as Steve could imagine, short of waking up tomorrow to find that Detroit had never happened.

By the third day, though, Steve remembered that he had responsibilities outside the Avengers, and figured that his friends were as settled in as he could get them. 

Knowing that no one else was likely to care much about him, Steve went in search of Gabriel.

He found the ex-archangel hidden away in the very corner of the mess hall, out of Dean’s field of vision. He was hunched over a cup of the instant coffee Tony had brought with him – Steve was surprised Gabriel convinced Chuck to give him some; coffee was considered a precious commodity – and looked more miserable than anyone Steve had ever seen in his life. 

Looking at Cas was bad enough, sometimes: normally he looked like he had nothing left to live for, although that had changed a little lately. Gabriel, though, looked like he was actively _waiting_ for death to claim him.

He also looked like he had a killer of a hangover, which couldn’t be helping any. Neither could the nice shiner he'd developed around his left eye.

“You look depressed,” Steve opined, joining him.

“You think?” Gabriel retorted. He sounded like he was aiming for snappy and sarcastic, but it came out sounding more morose than anything. “I can see why they call Stark the genius and not you.”

“Of course not,” Steve responded blandly. “It’s my job to hit things.”

Gabriel looked startled for a second. Then he snorted, and gave Steve a small salute with his coffee.

“Touché.”

“Cas still not talking to you?” Steve asked sympathetically.

Gabriel seemed to crumple in on himself.

“Unless you count contemptuous glares as a hello, which I don’t, then no.”

“He’s had a really bad time,” Steve said, after a moment. Gabriel snorted and took a sip of his coffee.

“Haven’t we all.”

Steve wasn’t sure that it was his place to ask, but since no one else seemed interested in getting Gabriel’s side of the story, he went ahead with his question anyway.

“Cas told me he’s human because he chose humanity over Heaven.”

“That would do it.” Gabriel stared into his coffee again, as though it might provide him with answers to life’s most important questions if he looked hard enough.

“You’re human,” Steve prompted.

Gabriel didn’t answer, but Steve just sat quietly, not pushing. Just a quiet presence by Gabriel’s side, waiting and non-judgemental. 

That was what he was aiming for, anyway. It tended to work.

“Yeah, I am,” Gabriel said eventually. “I chose humanity at the last possible moment, when it was too late to do anything about was happening.”

“I’m sorry,” Steve said sincerely.

Gabriel glanced up at that, studying him.

“Yeah, you are, aren’t you?” he said, a little wryly, in tones of faint wonder. “Huh.”

Steve rested a hand on Gabriel’s shoulder for a second.

“If you need anything, talk to me. Even if it’s just someone who’ll listen.”

Gabriel made a scornful noise, and Steve left him to finish his coffee alone.

* * *

Thor returned the next day.

He was delighted to find that Clint and Natasha had joined the camp, and everyone was subjected to back-breaking hugs as Thor greeted them with all the bounding enthusiasm of a golden retriever.

Eventually they got everyone holed up in Dean’s cabin, along with Cas and Risa, to find out what Thor had been able to get out of his father.

It turned out that while Odin hadn’t known any way in which Lucifer might be defeated, help on the issue had come from a surprising source. 

“Wait, we’re trusting _your brother_ on this one?” Clint put in, looking disapproving. Steve couldn’t blame him in the least.

“We’re talking about the God of Lies, here, right?” Dean asked.

“I assure you, my brother likes the idea of a Celestial One playing overlord to Midgard almost as little as I do,” Thor argued. “He had a weapon, given to him long ago for safekeeping in exchange for the use of his name, which I am told is capable of killing even the greatest of Celestial Beings. A weapon, my friends, formed not of earthly metal, but rather of pure creation.”

Thor unwrapped the bundle of cloth reverently, revealing a simple, functional short sword that gleamed bright silver where the sunlight reflected off it.

“Your brother has a big mouth,” a new voice groused. It was Gabriel, standing in the doorway with a poisonous glare that failed to disguise the longing in his eyes when they rested on the sword. “Although I’m surprised that thing survived, considering I lost my Grace when Lucifer pulled his little _coup d’etat_.”

“You are the Celestial Messenger that Loki spoke of?” Thor frowned, clearly doubtful as he took in Gabriel’s short stature and unimpressive appearance. Gabriel frowned back. He looked less hungover today, Steve noted.

“Not so much these days, but yeah, I’m the one who lent Loki the sword.”

“Then this is excellent news.” Thor’s face cleared, like sunlight breaking through a cloud. “My brother counselled me that the sword shall work best in the hands of its true wielder.”

“That’s too bad, because I am _not_ killing my brother,” Gabriel shot back harshly. “Try Captain Stars’n’Stripes over there. He and the sword should suit each other just fine.”

“Will it kill him?” Natasha asked bluntly, voicing the question in everyone’s mind.

“It should,” Cas answered, when Gabriel’s mouth twisted.

“Then all we need is a plan,” Steve commented thoughtfully.

“Is there any way we can do this without killing Sam?” It clearly cost Dean a lot to ask. He tried to keep his voice level, but it cracked in the middle.

“Not a chance,” Gabriel responded brutally.

Dean was silent for a long moment, and Steve wondered what was going through his head.

Thor coughed.

“My people have healers whose skill is renowned across the Nine Realms,” he told Dean. “Even if your brother is upon the brink of death, he may yet recover, if delivered immediately into knowledgeable hands. I have known men bearing mortal wounds to return hale and hearty after the care of a healer.”

“And even if he carks it, that’s got to be better than sharing hat-space with the angel version of Hitler,” Clint added, with his usual lack of tact. “ _Ow!_ ” he yelped, as Natasha ground her heel into his instep, although it was clear she agreed with him.

Dean didn’t seem to mind, though.

“Yeah,” he said slowly. “Guess you’ve got a point. If I can’t save Sam, well, at least I can do something about the fucker wearing him like a suit.”

Steve took a deep breath.

“Well, then,” he said, “I guess we’ve got a job to do.”

FIN

**Author's Note:**

> For people unfamiliar with the Supernatural season 4-5 story arc, basically the brothers Sam and Dean Winchester, hunters of the supernatural, find out that Lucifer is in danger of escaping, and the angels need them to help stop this from happening. The angel Castiel is basically their liaison officer. Angels can only hang out on earth if they have a ‘vessel’ (i.e. someone to possess) and it turns out Sam is Lucifer’s vessel, and Dean is Michael’s. Once the boys give their consent, the angels can wear them like suits to do whatever they like. Anyway, it turns out that the upper-management level angels actually want Lucifer to be free ( I won’t go into why) and Castiel, who has bonded with Dean, switches sides to help out humanity instead. Lucifer escapes anyway. Sam and Dean immediately come under pressure to give their consent to angelic possession. If Sam gives in, Lucifer will destroy the Earth, and if they both give in, Earth will become the site of a battle between Lucifer and Michael over who gets to have it. Apocalypse happens either way.
> 
> In The End verse, Sam said yes to Lucifer, the Earth was ravaged by demons and a plague (the Croatoan virus) that basically turns people into rabid, living zombies. Dean and a de-angeled Cas live at Camp Chitaqua, with a bunch of other survivors. That’s where this fic starts.


End file.
